The Letter
by SixtyYDidU
Summary: A package, and an Imperial Courier. Conar Vicillius, carrying an important letter from the Imperial Home Fleet to High Rock, must trek through the harsh land of Skyrim in order to reach his destination. This is his tale.
1. Prologue

Prologue

How do they live like this? The cold nipped at my legs as I trudged through what was easily a foot of snow. Not even Bruma came close to the chills of Skyrim, an adversary to the people of this province for generations, but one they've learned to combat. The Nords are strong and mighty, fierce and courageous. The cold to them is nothing but another challenge that they face every day, but not one as harsh as the wolves and bandits. In Cyrodiil, most citizens lived their daily lives in their homes, their stomachs full of bread and cheese.

I was from Cheydinhal, living in a small home I inherited from my father, Dominic Vicillius. Like his father before him, he was a land courier for the Imperial Navy during the Great War, delivering sensitive packages to outposts and other fleets that required land travel to reach. He used to tell me about his travels across the continent of Tamriel, through the swamps of Black Marsh, the forests of Valenwood, the cliffs of High Rock, and the peaks of the Jerall Mountain range. The Jerall were my favorite to hear about, being able to look at them from my bedroom window as a young boy and think on my father's tales. I always dreamed about hiking them with my father.

When I finally did end up in the Jerall, however, I was alone. A sensitive letter to a small Imperial detachment in the High Rock city of Northpoint began my journey into Skyrim, as I trekked through the Jerall and across the Cyrodiil-Skyrim border. As I shivered, taking long strides through the blizzard and knee-high snow, my mind raced back to the day I'd answered a knock at the door. A seven year old boy living on his own, and an Imperial Courier come to inform him that his father went missing on a delivery. No child understands it right away. I was convinced that one day father would come knocking at the door, lifting me from my feet in a warm embrace. Obviously, that never happened.

I saw him again four years later, his soul withered, and his skin taught against his bones. The elves had changed him. I had already grown up, doing my part to stay alive by selling newspapers at the town center. The elves turned my father into a walking corpse. I became a caretaker, my father couldn't do much on his own. His will to do anything was gone, and he hardly spoke, if ever. Sometimes he ate, sometimes he didn't. Sometimes, I had to feed him myself. He was hardly alive, and the time came soon where he didn't wake up in the morning. I was only thirteen. Fortunately, the Imperial City paid all expenses when it came to shelter and food, thanks to my father's service. However, with his passing, support from the Imperial City would come to an end, and I needed a way to stay afloat. Following in my father's footsteps, I enlisted, at fourteen, into the Imperial Courier Network, and that was that.

I spent a significant amount of time in Elsweyr, working with the Khajiit in the great sands. The Khajiit were a cultured people, who welcomed me into their homes with open arms for food, drink, and ancient Khajiiti tales. I turned down their Moon Sugar, and yet they accepted my decision and treated me no less. Their farms were prosperous, and I admired their work. Khajiiti architecture always had me intrigued as a child, and to see the works of these people with my own eyes was a great pleasure. In the end, they sent me on my way with warm words and prayers. I wish I could have told them what my mission was, and I hope they do not think ill of me for my sins.

* * *

A cave, just barely visible through the falling snow, called to me. Shelter. I had a lot more walking to do, and it would be best to simply huddle somewhere safe for the night, let the storm pass. I turned course and pushed through the blizzard, fixing my face mask and hood. When the gaping entrance of the cave finally graced me with its ceiling and walls, I stumbled deeper and into a wall, where I tugged my face mask down to let out a heavy breath. It was still cold, albeit not as cold as out there. I got to work, setting my rucksack down and tugging at my bedroll. As I found a flat area and set out my bedroll, my legs would begin to burn. I cursed to myself as I marched over to my rucksack and pulled out firewood and some flint. I needed to get started on a fire. I would need time for my legs to heal before I could travel again. Fortunately it looked like I was in for a long stay regardless, thanks to the storm outside.

Striking the flint, I managed to get a small burn going on the kindling. Once the fire started to flare a bit, I got to work setting up the logs. It was already a hundred times more comfortable in here, and I was glad to see and hear something other than snow. I angled my bedroll so that my legs were close to the fire, a bad idea in every other situation, but I needed my legs to heal as soon as possible if I was to get to High Rock in time. The blizzard had already put me an entire day behind schedule, so I'd need to make up the lost time throughout the rest of my trip. It sounded easier than it was, but this sort of thing was my job anyways. Making up lost time, being the fastest there was, even when issues arose out of nowhere. A skilled courier could adapt to his situation and always make it to his destination regardless of the dangers he faced along the way. Sure, I was romanticizing it a bit. Being a courier was hard work, but it wasn't at all glamourous. Couldn't deny the views though.

As I descended onto my bedroll, not a moment passed before a noise caught my attention. My eyes jumped to the left, scanning the darkness. A single light catches my attention. As I watched for a moment longer, I began to hear voices.

"No, this definitely comes out on the other side. Irgnar was confident in what she was saying, and I trust her," a male voice broke the silence.

"Sure, I mean, I trust her too, but it really feels like we've been going in circles. I just don't want to walk out in front of an Imperial Patrol, ya know?"

"Trust me, Imperial Patrols are the worst of your-"

The two men stopped at the sight of me, scrambling to gather my things. I paused and looked up to meet their lost gazes. I had frozen too. Suddenly, the cave became much colder than the blizzard outside.

"I was just leaving, I swear. I'll be out of your way," the words rolled from my mouth with a slight chuckle, however I began to talk faster and faster, visibly anxious. These men were hiding from Imperial Patrols, which certainly didn't put me in a good position, seeing as the Imperial insignia was emblazoned across my entire body.

"So soon? We don't bite," the man in front, a large blonde figure that stood easily a foot taller and wider than his partner beside him, reached for his waist, slowly tugging at an axe. This wasn't going to end well.

Before anyone could make a move, I took the initiative to yank a mace out from my rucksack. The quick movement made the other man jump to attention, pulling a sword from his scabbard and charging me. As his sword lunged forward, I sidestepped to his left, throwing my mace down against his shoulder. The man dropped to his knees and shouted, clutching his shoulder with his right arm. With his sword on the ground, I moved to the bigger man, who brought his axe down towards my head. I took a quick step back, raising my mace once more, but the man stopped his axe halfway down its descent, thrusting it forward like a sword. The tipped cap of the weapon plunged an inch into my gut, and my stomach tumbled inside of my body.

As I recoiled, the wind knocked from my lungs, the large man charged, grappling me around my arms and slamming me into the cave wall. He held me in place, only releasing his right hand so he could punch his fist into my nose twice. I could feel the blood begin to run, and as his fist came forward again, I threw my left arm up in the way. The man grabbed said arm and yanked it down to my side again. In doing so, however, he had to lean forward. I threw my forehead against the bridge of his nose, and he backstepped a few feet, clutching his nostrils. I used the moment of surprise to dart towards my mace, but the smaller man was already there, slashing his sword toward me. The blade connected, sparking against my chestplate, but running down the side of my abdomen and tearing a gash under my right arm.

As the blood began to pool in the shallow cut, I rose to my feet, shouldering the smaller man in the ribcage. The force knocked him back on his rear, and I scooped my mace from the cave floor. The large man shouted as he swung his axe toward my flank. I spun around, backstepping a few feet, and throwing my left hand up. The air crackled as a thin branch of lightning flashed outward, tagging the man in the gut. He shook and shuddered as the electricity came over him, falling to his knees as his hands clenched into fists and his axe fell to the floor. When he curled up on the floor, and stopped resisting, I turned my attention to the smaller man, still recovering from the blow. I focused him down next, and the air fell silent.

* * *

With my equipment gathered, I decided to head back out into the storm. I was hurt, but I didn't want to be here when those two woke up again. I decided to leave the campfire burning, and a bit of bread as a parting gift for when they came to. I'd either be dead or in Falkreath in the next few hours anyways, so it wasn't like I needed it very much. Now, as I stepped back out into the storm, light bandaging on my torso, I exhaled sharply and braced myself, heading out into the frozen fray once more. My survival was the only thing on my mind.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Thank you for reading the Prologue of my new story! Just to let you all know, this story is not Imperial-supporting or Stormcloak-supporting, so both sides may enjoy the tale! It may take place in the perspective of an Imperial, but I will try my best to humanize both sides, and give them both their own flaws. So I hope you enjoyed, and keep an eye out for Chapter 1, which should release soon!


	2. The Helgen Guard

**Chapter 1**

The Helgen Guard

Falkreath. The warm lighting of civilization pulled me forward, beckoning to me. Even after the blizzard had calmed down and come to an end nearly an hour ago, the temperature of this land still chilled me to the bone. Fortunately, the Imperial border patrol was easy going as soon as they learned I was delivering a sensitive letter. Had I been a Nord, I feel as though my crossing would have gone differently. The tension between the Imperial occupation and the Nord citizens was talked about often in Cyrodiil, so I wasn't completely clueless on the issues, however this would be my first true experience with the situation in person. I knew well before coming here that I would be in constant danger. However, there were a few havens for people like me, specifically the western holds. Solitude and Whiterun were my best bets, Solitude being the Imperial capital in Skyrim, and Whiterun being a neutral ground in the civil war, filled with travelers, so I wouldn't stick out.

My first stop, however, was Falkreath. Supposedly, what remained of the Helgen guard ran a small Imperial complex on the outskirts of the city. Rumor had it Helgen was destroyed by a dragon, others stated it was a Stormcloak raid. Either way, with Helgen gone, my destination had to be slighted. Fortunately, word had reached me only a few hours before I left Anvil. If it hadn't, I might've been left clueless as I walked into the dangerous remains of my previous meeting point. Falkreath was nearly just as dangerous, however. Home to the largest graveyard in Skyrim, Falkreath was packed with dead Nords who had fought in many wars, including the civil war that raged on in the present. The Nord population there would not embrace my company, and I was sure they treated the Helgen guard remnants just the same. Once I get there, I would be accompanied by an Imperial escort that would keep me company through the rest of this province. The Imperial navy didn't want to risk such an important letter travelling alone with the presence of the Stormcloaks, and the many bandits littering the province. I was just glad to have the company.

As I took my first few steps into the Falkreath hold, the warmth of burning fires and flaring forges brought comfort to my brittle form. I still had a bit of walking to do, the Imperial complex sitting on the opposite side of the city by a few kilometers, so I decided to stop in the tavern for a short rest, and maybe a drink. Just enough to warm myself for the rest of the walk. I marched past shops with owners calling out their latest deals, people dressed warmly carrying baskets of goods, forges flaring and hammers shouting, and the occasional conversation and playful child. The town was lively, which seemed a bit odd for a place built so close to the site of many dead. Maybe it was some sort of Nordic holiday. If so, I wasn't aware.

I stopped at the tavern door, pressing it open and embracing the warm air inside. A large fire burned in the center, and a bard played his lute, humming to the strings he strummed. A crowd gathered around the fire, sipping their tankards and loudly sharing tales, while others sat lonesome in corners, enjoying a meal in peace. I pulled my face mask to my throat, and tugged my hood down from my head as I approached the counter. The woman behind gave me an odd glare, but warmed up just a bit as I dropped a few golden septims on the counter. She filled a tankard and slid it across toward me. I thanked her with a smile and sat at an empty table to drink. The Nords gave me the occasional glare, but thankfully no one pursued instigation. I enjoyed my drink in peace, listening in on the tales told.

* * *

At the complex, I was greeted by two Imperial watchmen, a small number for such an important site. I showed them my Imperial Courier Network identification, and they allowed me through the low walls. In the center was a wooden structure, barely bigger than a Jarl's residence, with Imperial flags draped about its perimeter. Wall-mounted torches burned as night fell, and guards patrolled the perimeter with torches of their own. Not one batted an eye in my direction. I was no threat to them. They had to keep an eye out for Stormcloaks. More guards greeted me through the main doors, and I passed through inside. One man, clad in heavy steel Imperial armour that stuck out amongst the brown and red studded-leather armour the rest wore, led me through the complex and into a room filled with important-looking men. The conversation quickly sealed, and every eye turned to me.

"Ah, so you must be Conar Vicillius," a bald man approached me. He dragged a red cape, Imperial insignia emblazoned on its cloth, behind his silver armour, and carried a large broadsword in a scabbard on his hip. His helmet rested on the table behind him, including a thick facemask and large red plume on top. "I am Captain Laboriosus, commanding officer of the Helgen guard," the man glanced around. "Or what's left of it. General Tullius informed me that you'd be arriving, and that you would need my help. So what is it that I need help you with?"

"I've an important document from the Imperial Home Fleet in Anvil that needs delivering to High Rock. I was told that you would be able to provide escort through Skyrim to ensure the safety of the delivery," I informed him, patting the satchel that hung at my side. At these words, Laboriosus watched in silence for a moment. His expression didn't look promising.

"I would love to help, Vicillius, however my people are stretched too far as it is," Laboriosus beckoned over to the table, and I approached to see what he wanted to show me. It was a large map of Skyrim, red flags marking Imperial territory, and blue supposedly marking Stormcloak. A few white pieces were scattered around Falkreath.

"When Helgen was attacked, I lost a lot of men. There aren't many of us left, and the ones I do have left are assigned in vital strategic holding points to monitor road travel and watch for Stormcloak approach in advance. I have detachments on each major road, and even then I am worried my numbers are too little to effectively hold the zone," Laboriosus paused and looked up at me, his expression definitely one of slight doubt. "Reinforcements were supposedly sent this way from Solitude, but we have at least three more days until their arrival. We're on the edge of enemy territory, and my detachments have reported a large fluctuation in Stormcloak movement just outside the Falkreath hold. I fear we may not last three days."

He was right. Even as inexperienced as I was, I could see the predicament he was in. I was sure I'd be able to handle myself anyways, though the company would be missed.

"I understand. If you can just supply me with the safest and quickest route to High Rock, I'll be able to make my own way," I assured him with a calm expression. I could tell he wanted to help, but it was impossible to do without losing Falkreath in the process.

"That I can do, Vicillius," Laboriosus nodded, walking past the other men who silently observed the exchange. The Captain opened a chest, rummaging through stacks of folded paper, before retrieving a specific piece. "This is a map our spies used to use back when we were monitoring the Stormcloak's movement in The Rift. It should take you right to Solitude, and from there you can hitch a boat ride to Northpoint. Godspeed to you, Conar," I took the paper, nodding to the man with a light smile. It was the most he could do, and I was thankful for it.

* * *

The Stormcloaks were fighting for their independence, a crazy idea for those who live their entire lives in Cyrodiil. When one travels, they hear many different tales, truths, lies, myths, legends, every variation of a story. To the people native to the Starry Heart of Nirn, the Nords were nothing but brutish beasts who fought for the simple pleasure of destruction. But to those versed in politics, or to people like me who travel and, therefore, hear many things, the truth becomes less shy. The Nordic people simply wanted their freedom of religion. It seemed simple, however there were many factors that denied them that right. The White-Gold Concordat, a treaty between elves and man after the Great War, specifically stated that Talos worship was to be outlawed. The elves believed that no mere man could ascend to godhood, and that the worship of Tiber Septim, more commonly referred to as Talos, was an affront to the complexity of divinity. With the Altmer on the verge of winning the Great War, the empire had no choice but to agree to these terms. In doing so, the Nord people began to unhindge, with the Imperial occupation of Skyrim already a subject of tension. Now, the Nords were being denied their freedom of religion by the Imperials who took control of Skyrim, and by the Altmer who were their enemies. It was a rough situation all around, and I began to wonder which side was really in the right, if any.

* * *

"Captain Laboriosus," a man exclaimed between heavy breaths as he sprinted into the room, grabbing everyone's attention. "Word from the south-eastern detachment! The Stormcloaks are mobilizing!"

"Catch your breath, Auxiliary. Where were they last seen," Laboriosus inquired, stepping past me and approaching the man.

"Falkreath. They were asking around about the complex," the man explained, handing Laboriosus a formal document, presumably holding a more structured report.

"That's not like them. Why would they put themselves out into the open like that," Laboriosus spoke rhetorically. Then he turns to me. "Vicillius, I think you should leave. The Stormcloaks are pulling something, and I believe an attack is imminent. Get that document to High Rock, and keep yourself safe," Laboriosus spoke solemnly, but his face was one of courage. I had a strange feeling in my gut that I might not see the Captain again.

"Will do. My prayers are with you," I told him as I approached the exit.

"Don't worry about us. You'll need those prayers much more than we will," Laboriosus nodded to me, and I gave him a nod in return as I departed. My gut was right.

* * *

As I departed down the north-eastern road from Falkreath, following the path set out for me on the map from Laboriosus, my first stop would be a small lumber village known locally as Riverwood. The Nordic and Imperial populations residing within lived voluntarily segregated by the main road in the middle of the town. If I sought rest, a man by the name of Alvor ran the local forge and would offer a place to stay if I inquired. The document stated that his nephew was an Imperial soldier, so I assumed I would be safe with him, even though he was a Nord. I had a long walk ahead, so I began my walk as quick as possible. I only hoped that the Stormcloaks would not pursue me. If they went to the tavern in Falkreath, they most definitely would have learned of an Imperial courier stopping for rest, and the hunt would begin. As long as I made it to Whiterun, however, I would be safe inside its neutral walls.

Pulling my facemask up, and my hood over my head, I started off once more into the deep and frigid wilderness of Skyrim. What faced me ahead, I would not know. My journey was far from over. The blunt truth was that it had barely begun.

* * *

**Author's Note**

This was a short one, but I assure you we are just getting started. Most of this so far as been expedition, but we are very close to getting into the "meat and potatoes" of this tale. I hope you all enjoyed, and I can't wait to continue this story with you all.


	3. Unhinged

**Chapter 2**

Unhinged

As bad as my recent experience with caves, I found myself dwelling inside one once more. I'd walked for several hours straight, and my legs began to freeze once more. Obviously I came a bit ill prepared for the frigid environment of this land. Once I reached Riverwood I would make sure to purchase warmer leg attire. The fear of Frost Limbs was much more prevalent out here, and I needed to take serious precautions when it came to my travel time in this dangerous environment.

My fire burning, and my body already warming quickly, I swallowed a spoon of cabbage soup using water and a few ingredients I had inside my rucksack. It tasted horrid, but amazing at the same time. The simple sensation of the meal filling my gut brought a better mood instantly. Hopefully Riverwood had meat. I would kill for some meat. Maybe a nice rabbit haunch, sided with cheese and wine.

I snapped from my fantasies. Wine? Really Conar? Exhaling, I brought the spoon to my lips once more and sipped beside the crackling flames. Snow began to fall once more, and the wind grew in strength. I glanced down to see that my bowl was now empty. Setting the wooden dish onto the cave floor, I leaned back on my bedroll and pulled a book from out of my rucksack. "Outside the Starry Heart of Nirn", a thick leather book filled with all the different cultures of Tamriel, with my father's name inscribed on the cover. This was his life's work. He documented every culture throughout all of his travels in here. I made sure to update myself with it as often as I could.

I peeled the pages apart, flipping to the chapter on Skyrim and reading a few paragraphs in, skimming past the physical descriptions of the Nordic people where I had read previously, and on to the traditions section. Inside were detailed summaries of the foods they ate, and the holidays they celebrated. Table manners, slangs, and daily norms. I sat and read quietly. The meeting with the Helgen Guard had gone much quicker than scheduled, and as a result I was only a few hours behind schedule now. I had a bit of time to kill. I would find a way to make it up later.

As I lay silently, filling my head with the Nordic culture, a sound would cut into my concentration, drawing me from the images in my head, and back into the real world. Fearing the worst, I hastily shut the book and jumped to a low stance, turning my attention outside. The bushes rustled harshly, and heavy footfalls approached. As I began to reach for my mace, the nose of an elk peered through the leaves. I stopped, taking my hand away from the weapon and focusing my eyes. The animal cautiously moved through the trees, before stopping at the mouth of the cave, frozen like a statue, its eyes locked on mine. I froze as well, admiring the large beast. We held a staring contest for several moments, before the animal quickly licked its own shoulder, and then darted back into the treeline as fast as it had come. What a lucky sight.

Poaching is a major issue in this province. The southern regions are mostly hit the hardest, only seconded by the Rift. Nords enjoy feasts, and eating heartily. Even the poor fill their stomachs with meat. Victory meals and holiday dinners are extremely common in this frigid land, and I impatiently waited for the day I arrived in Solitude, where I could finally eat a real dinner. Thinking on the fresh smell of smoked meats, I fell asleep in the cave, the first time I'd gotten shuteye since I left Bruma.

* * *

I watched Masser peak just over the Jerall, the large moon making its final appearance for the night. Tomorrow, Masser would begin its waxing phase, and Secunda would rise in full. Many Cathay would be born. As I thought on this, completely embraced in the surprisingly warm morning atmosphere, the sound of heavy hoof-falls caught my attention. I stopped in the middle of the trail, watching as a pack of elk darted out of the treeline, across the path in front of me, and then into the foliage on the other side. I waited for them to cross before continuing my walk.

I rounded the end of the treeline, and came out to an elevate position that looked out on a large river. Lake Ilinalta wasn't far from here, just upstream. Downstream, however, was my destination. Riverwood. From my place beside a trio of ancient stones, standing tall with importance, I could spot a handful of rooftops a few kilometers down from where I stood. I hastily began my walk ahead, no longer admiring the surroundings, but simply in a rush to arrive. This meant I'd arrived in the Whiterun Hold, and the ancient walls of the city weren't far now.

* * *

I stumbled into the lumber town of Riverwood, weary from my travel. The short walk proved to be formidable, the sun surprisingly more potent than I would have imagined. When temperatures rose in Skyrim, they rose harshly, something my father's book had warned of, but also something I'd never believed until I experienced it myself. Skyrim's elevation and low humidity ensured an overdressed traveler like me would suffer, the heat similar to standing beside a forge. Obviously I was visually distressed, for as I walked, a man called out to me in a worried tone.

"You there! Traveler," the man rushed to my side, wrapping his arm over my shoulder and beckoning to a home with a forge beside it. "You look like a draugr, son. Come, let's get you something to drink."

I allowed him to lead me to his home without resistance. I was too parched to speak, but I instantly realized that this must be Alvor, and so I saved the introductions for when I was properly hydrated.

As I rested inside Alvor's home, drinking water from a pitcher, the Nord began to speak.

"We get many travelers who overdress expecting constant low temperatures. Heat stroke is a serious threat, son, and you looked like you were on the verge of meeting your maker." The man leaned back against a counter, his wife tidying the common room beside him. "Say, those are Imperial insignias. You don't look like a soldier, though."

Taking another sip, I mustered up the ability to speak. "I'm a Legion Courier. Captain Laboriosus sent me this way. He said you would be willing to provide shelter for just a night, before I make my way to Whiterun."

"Any friend of Laboriosus is a friend of mine. My nephew, Hadvar, speaks highly of that man, and I can never fully repay him for helping my nephew up at Helgen."

"Your nephew was at Helgen when the Stormcloaks attacked it?"

"Boy, no Stormcloak did that," Alvor turned and grabbed a pot from a cupboard. "You'd think I'm crazy, but Hadvar was sure of what he saw, and what he saw was a dragon."

I chuckled slightly, taking another sip. It was common for Nords to exaggerate the power of a man, usually as a sign of respect or fear. "A dragon, you say?"

"Oh, you laugh now. Dark as night, he said. It flew with mighty wings and spewed fire hotter than a thousand suns, he said. I thought he was crazy, until Whiterun sent reinforcements to protect Riverwood. This dragon is a very real threat, son," Alvor spoke in a tone as serious as a heart attack, and my smile quickly faded.

"Dragons have been extinct since the second era. What you're suggesting should be mad," dragons in Skyrim. This would make my trip even more dangerous. Such an idea had to be preposterous.

"It is mad, boy, but it's real too. This truly is the world we live in now," Alvor sat quiet for a moment, as did I, in a state of disbelief. Dragons. Fantastic. "Now, I imagine you're quite hungry. I bought venison at the market today, and my family planned on eating well tonight with creamed cheeses I had delivered straight from the Reach. Why don't you join us?"

"I would be grateful," I accepted with a wide smile. A warm home and a filling dinner surrounded by other people would be a nice change of pace.

I ate heartily, the most I'd eaten since Chorrol. Alvor's family was kind, his wife and child very well mannered. We ate a delicious Nordic meal, and listened as Alvor told tales of the sort of people who came through Riverwood. Him and I drank for Laboriosus as I told him of the Stormcloak advance on Falkreath, and soon his daughter and wife left for sleep. Alvor and I stayed up just a bit longer, sharing stories and relaxing after the filling meal. He showed me to a guests room downstairs, where I unpacked my things and layed down to read from "Outside the Starry Heart of Nirn". I reread most of the things in the Nord section, taking note of everything I'd skimmed. Today was an obvious sign that my father knew what he was talking about, and I should've paid more attention. I fell asleep shortly after with the book open at my side.

* * *

I awoke to the sound of a loud knocking. The air fell silent for a moment, and I began to question my senses. The knocking occured again, however, confirming my sanity was intact. I heard the shuffling of feet above, most likely Alvor answering the door. I heard the creaking of the door opening, and then the muffled sound of voices, of which I could barely make out the content of their discussion.

"...harboring a dog," an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"We don't want any trouble," Alvor's distinct voice responded. Suddenly, a shuffling, and then a loud thump. I winced as Alvor's wife screamed, and I quickly scrambled to my feet.

I threw on my clothes, grabbing my mace from my things, and approached the stairs. Footsteps hurried above as well, and I stopped as four Stormcloaks descended the steps, swords in hand. They gathered at the bottom of the steps, as I backstepped a bit. I could feel my hands begin to shake.

"You're coming with us, Imperial dog," the man in front ordered from behind his helmet.

Suddenly, Alvor ran down the stairs, jumping on the shoulders of the man at the back before anyone could react. He spun around, tumbling to the floor with the Stormcloak locked down. The others drew their blades and moved to help. I jogged forward, slamming my mace into the first man's back. He recoiled forward, grunting as he caught himself on a wooden support. As I swung again, he spun around and threw his sword up, our weapons colliding as he lunged forward, throwing me backwards. I stumbled, nearly tripping on the bed as he rushed forward with his blade. I stepped to the side, shouldering him as he approached. Another Stormcloak grabbed me before I could attack, however, and threw me against some shelving. I fell to my rear, struggling to intake air as the pain in my back came over me. It was intense. The two men gathered themselves, before picking me up from the floor. I still couldn't breath.

"Run, boy! Get out of here," Alvor shouted as he pushed away his attackers. Air filled my lungs again, and I wriggled myself free, electrocuting the man closest to me, and knocking the other over the head with my mace. Both fell to the floor, one wriggling in pain, and the other unmoving, blood pooling around his head. I stared in awe. Did I just-

"Go! Hurry," Alvor shouted once more as he fought with tooth and nail to keep from being overwhelmed, swinging an iron blade to keep the two men from approaching.

I scooped up my rucksack, unfortunately leaving my coat and leathers behind as I darted passed Alvor and up the stairs. I glanced at Alvor's wife and child, cowering in the corner of the room as I pushed through the door and out into the chilly night. Three Stormcloaks stood outside, their arms crossed. As I stopped to face them, all four of us froze as we processed what we were all seeing. I reacted faster, turning and high-tailing it down the road as the men pulled their swords from their scabbards and pursued me, shouting at me to stop or face death. My bare feet hit the cold stone bridge, yet I barely processed the sensation, running for my very life with my stuff in my arms. I kept running, deep into the trees and through dirt, until I could no longer hear the voices or footsteps of my pursuers. And then I kept running, running until my breaths were short and sharp, until my lungs tasted of blood, and my feet were numb.

Finally, I stopped at a tree stump, deep in the forest north-east of Riverwood. I fell to my knees in the dirt, choking and coughing as I tried to pull air to my lungs. Then the pain everywhere else hit, my back began to ache like a migraine, and my feet stung harshly. My mind rushed over everything that had happened, before pausing on the memory of the Stormcloak, lying completely motionless on the carpet, blood staining the cloth of his helmet and the fur of the carpet. I pulled my bedroll from my rucksack, my chest heaving as I dragged everything behind a tree and curled up inside the roll. My mind raced, and my heart pumped. The image of that man remained in my head for so long, and I began to feel sick. Finally, after what felt like an hour of nothing but the sound of nighttime wildlife and my own breath, I fell asleep. None of my dreams were very pleasant.

* * *

When my eyes opened again, it was still dark. Secunda hung low in the sky, with the waxing form of Masser completely gone from view. It was early morning, and I decided it would be best to get a move on. As long as I could make it to Whiterun, I would be temporarily safe from the Stormcloaks. I only hoped Alvor and his wife were alright. As I thought, I was broken from my trance as the ground rumbled. The air thickened, and I nearly fell from my feet, as an earth rattling voice called out:

**"DO-VAH-KIN"**

As the rumbling faded, I was left with my own interpretation as I stared to the sky, where the voice had seemed to come from. I stood for a long while, waiting for some sort of event or explanation, but none came. I continued my walk towards Whiterun, left to my thoughts in the dark of early morning.


End file.
